‘We got lost in the fog, but thanks to a ruined castle—’
‘How in God’s name did you get all the way over there?’ he snapped.
‘David, it wasn’t my fault.’
‘And what about the horses? Didn’t you see the fog, or were you too busy with your new friend?’
‘I didn’t suggest we go riding. I didn’t want to go in the first place. You could have stopped us.’
‘Get out of your wet things before you catch your death of cold. I’ve run you a bath,’ he said, making for the door. Sofia recognized his jealousy and she smiled softly.
‘I can’t do it by myself,’ she said feebly. He turned around and Sofia thought his angry face looked adorable; she wanted to kiss his fury away.
‘I’ll call Zaza,’ he said stiffly.
‘I don’t want Zaza. I don’t want Gonzalo, either. I want you,’ she said slowly
and looked straight into his dejected eyes.
‘You were gone for hours. I was worried,’ he burst out. ‘What was I to think?’
‘You can’t think very much of me if you imagine me hopping from one man to the next. Don’t you trust me?’
‘I’m sorry.'
‘It’s because he’s Argentine, isn’t it?’ she said.
‘And handsome and young. I’m over twenty years older than you,’ he protested miserably.
‘So?’
‘I’m old.’
‘And I love you. I’d love you however old you were. It makes no difference to me,’ she said, struggling out of her clothes.
‘Let me help you with this,’ he said, walking over. He knelt in front of her and took her face in his hands and kissed her. His mouth was soft and warm and Sofia wanted to curl up against him, but he eased her away. ‘You’re like a sodden dog,’ he laughed, looking down at the wet patch that now discoloured his shirt.
He pulled her jersey and T-shirt over her head in one swift movement. She shivered. Her hair fell limply about her naked neck and shoulders in long, dripping tentacles. He kissed her again in an attempt to put some life back into her purple lips, but they trembled in spite of him. She unbuttoned her jeans and allowed him to gently remove them, taking care to pull the leg cautiously over her bad ankle. They were soggy and splattered with mud. ‘My darling, you’re freezing. Let’s get you into the bath,’ he said solicitously.
‘What - in my underwear?’ She laughed and unhooked her brassfre. Her breasts were surprisingly plump for her slight body and covered in goose-bumps, and her blood-red nipples stood out rigidly in protest at the cold. She wriggled out of her panties and extended her arms to him. He lifted her cold body off the bed and into the bathroom.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said and kissed her temple.
‘And cold.’ She pressed her face against his rough jawbone. ‘Bubbles,’ she sighed as he lowered her through the thick foam into the hot water below.
David sat on the chair and watched as the colour returned to her lips and cheeks, and her shoulders relaxed and sank into the water. Her swollen ankle throbbed as the blood pumped into it with renewed energy. She began to feel herself again. After wrapping her up in a large white towel, David laid her down
on the bed and made to leave the room. But she stopped him.
‘I want you to make love to me, David.' she said, tightening her grip about his neck.
‘What about the others?’ he said, smoothing his hand over her damp hair.
They can look after themselves. I’m poorly, remember.’
‘Exactly - and sex isn’t good for your ankle,’ he said.
‘I don’t make love with my ankle,’ she giggled into his neck. He laughed too and kissed her again. Then he was making love to her, caressing her, touching her, enjoying her. To her delight she found that when she closed her eyes, David was all she saw.
Chapter 28
‘I knew something was up that weekend we were down with Gonzalo,’ Zaza said a month later. ‘I could see it in your eyes, David. You are a hopeless actor.’ She laughed throatily. He had called her that morning to invite her out to lunch as he was to be in town for a few days on business. ‘I can barely tear myself away from Sofia,’ he had said and then he had told her about their relationship. ‘Poor Gonzalo was smitten,’ she added from across the small table at the Ivy, putting the wineglass to her scarlet lips.
‘I thought she would fall in love with him,’ he said sheepishly.
‘So did I, that’s why I suggested you invite him in the first place. If I’d had a clue about your feelings for her, I would never have been so tactless. Will you forgive me?’
‘You’re wicked, Zaza, but I can’t help liking you,’ he chuckled and opened the menu.
‘So what are you going to do?’ she asked. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Well?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You’ll marry her, of course,’ she said and felt her throat stiffen.
‘I don’t know. Now, what are you going to have?’ he asked, calling over the waiter. But Zaza wasn’t so easily deterred when she had a mission. She ordered with haste and resumed her line of questioning.
‘She’ll want to get married. All girls do. What about Ariella?’
‘What about her? We’ve been divorced for seven years.’
‘Have you told Sofia about her? She’ll want to know.’
‘What is there to know about Ariella? She was my wife, a good gardener.’
‘A bitch, an exasperatingly beautiful bitch,’ said Zaza, spitting out the word ‘bitch’ with relish. ‘She’ll be furious when she finds out.’
‘No, she won’t. She’s safely tucked away in France with her lover,’ he said. Once he would have smarted at the memory of that smooth Frenchman who had lured his wife from him. It had nearly broken him. But now it was all in the past and he had Sofia whom he loved more than he had ever loved Ariella.
‘She’ll come back to stir up trouble, I bet. She’ll start wanting you again now you love someone else. That’s the funny thing about Ariella, she always wants what she can’t have, and David, you’ll be irresistible to her now.’
‘You don’t understand Ariella at all,’ David said dismissively.
‘Neither do you. It takes a woman to understand a woman. I understand her in a way that you never could. You see, she’s devious. She likes a challenge. She likes to shock, do the unexpected. She likes to ripple the waters.’ Zaza narrowed her eyes. ‘She was always very good at rippling the waters. Of course, she could never ripple mine. No, I was someone she was always unable to crack. But she’ll be back, mark my words.’
‘Okay, enough about Ariella, how’s Tony?’ said David, moving to one side to allow the waiter to slide a plate of steaming sea bass in front of him.
‘Your mother - has she met your mother?’ said Zaza, ignoring him. She bent over to sniff the parsnip soup.
‘No, she hasn’t met my mother.’
‘But she will, won’t she?’
‘There’s absolutely no reason to subject her to Mother.’
‘Well, I suppose she loved Ariella, didn’t she? The right breed, the right parentage. Oxford-educated, bright and classy. She won’t like an Argentine, she won’t be able to say. “How nice, the Norfolk Solanas.” She’ll know nothing about her, won’t be able to pigeonhole her. God, darling, is she Catholic?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never asked her,’ admitted David patiently.
‘God forbid - a Catholic! Not really much hope then, is there? Still, you’re her only son. You’d imagine she’d enjoy your happiness, wouldn’t you?’
‘I haven’t told her about Sofia, and I don’t intend to. It’s none of her business. She’d only be unpleasant. Why give her the opportunity?’
‘It always amazes me that a dragon like Elizabeth Harrison could have produced someone as adorable as you, David. Amazes me, really.’ She waved her spoon in the air as if it were a cigarette.
‘So, now the i
nquisition is over, how’s Tony?’ he repeated with a smile.
As David walked back to his office through the cold November streets, he buried his gloved hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the wind. He thought of Sofia and smiled. She hadn’t wanted to come up to London, she preferred to stay with the dogs and horses in the country. Since the dreaded Gonzalo episode they had been blissfully happy, just the two of them. Friends had come and gone but they had relished their time alone together, riding out on the hills, walking through the woods, making love on the sofa in front of the crackling fire.
He loved the way she’d wander into his office while he was working and put her arms around him from behind, pressing her smooth face against his. In the evenings she’d curl up in front of the television, pulling both dogs onto the sofa with her, sipping a steaming cup of hot chocolate and nibbling biscuits while he read in the little green sitting room next door. At night she’d wrap her limbs around his until he got so hot he’d be forced to gently pull away without waking her. If he did wake her he’d have to resume his position until she had fallen asleep again. She needed to be close and secure.
Sofia hadn’t spoken to Maggie and Anton for a few months. Daisy had kept in touch and had even visited a couple of times. She still worked in the salon and kept Sofia up to date with the gossip. Daisy had urged her to call Maggie. ‘She’ll think you’ve become too grand if you don’t,’ she had said. Maggie wasn’t in the least bit surprised when Sofia told her about David.
‘Didn’t I say he’d seduce you?’ she said and Sofia heard her inhale sharply. She always lit a cigarette the minute she knew she was going to be on the telephone long enough to smoke it.
‘Yes, you did,’ laughed Sofia.
‘Dirty old man.’
‘He’s not an old man, Maggie, he’s only forty-two.’
‘Dirty man, then, sweetie.’ She chuckled thickly. ‘Have you met his ex yet?’
‘The infamous Ariella. No, not yet.’
‘You will. Exes always appear to put a spanner in the works,’ she said and inhaled loudly again.
‘I don’t care. I’m so happy, Maggie. I never thought I’d love again.’
‘One always loves again. It’s a myth that there’s only one man out there for every woman. I’ve loved several, sweetie. Several and they’ve all been a delight.’
‘Even Viv?’ asked Sofia archly, recalling Tony’s second cousin.
‘Even Viv. He was a big man - if you know what I mean. He never failed to satisfy me even when we hated each other. I hope David satisfies you,’ she said.
‘Oh, Maggie!’
‘You’re such an innocent, sweetie - well, I suppose that’s all part of your charm. One of the reasons he loves you, no doubt. Don’t lose that innocence, it’s rare these days,’ she said dryly. ‘Are we going to see you sometime? Anton is pining like a dog.’
‘I’ll be up soon, I’m sure. Things are rather busy around here.’
‘Before Christmas would be nice.’
‘I’ll try.’
Sofia lit the fire in the little green sitting room. When they were alone in the house the sitting room was cosier than the larger drawing room which really only came to life when filled with people. David had called twice while she had been out on the hills so she had called him back, feeding the dogs with her spare hand. She missed him. He had only been away for a night and a day but she was used to him now and the bed seemed large and cold without him.
The fire began to flicker merrily. She played a CD. David liked classical music so she chose one of his; it would give the impression that he was about the house and fill the silence. The evening was closing in, the light fading slowly into the winter mist. She closed the heavy green curtains and thought of Ariella. The house had obviously been decorated by her. It reflected a woman’s taste. David wasn’t the sort of man to take an interest in decoration.
Sofia wondered what she looked like. David hadn’t told her much about his ex-wife, except that she had exquisite taste, an eye for art and a love of music. She was cultured and clever. They had met in their last year at Oxford. He
hadn’t ever been pursued by a woman before; in his world men had always done the chasing. But Ariella wasn’t a woman to sit back and wait to be courted - she went out and got what she wanted. He hadn’t been interested at first, he was quite keen on a girl on his literature course. But she persisted and finally they fell into bed. Ariella wasn’t a virgin; she behaved more like a man when it came to sex, David had explained. They had married after about a year and divorced seven years later. That was ten years ago. Another life, he had said. No children, Ariella hadn’t wanted a family. That was it.
Sofia hadn’t asked any questions. It wasn’t relevant and David didn’t hound her with questions about her past. But now she was alone in the house she suddenly felt Ariella’s presence in the chair covers and wallpaper. There were no photographs in picture frames as one might expect, but then the divorce had been acrimonious. After all, she had left him, not the other way around.
Sofia found herself opening drawers and searching through David’s cluttered papers and books for photographs of his past. She didn’t think he’d mind, he’d probably show them to her if he were there anyway. But she didn’t want to ask him, she didn’t want to look too interested. There’s nothing worse than a jealous girlfriend, she thought. Anyhow she wasn’t jealous, just curious.
Finally, at the bottom of a cupboard in his study she saw what looked like a dusty photo album. She pulled it out. It was heavy, bound in leather, chewed in one corner by a dog, no doubt. She opened it in the middle to make sure it was what she was looking for. When she saw a smiling David with his arm casually draped over the shoulders of a pretty blonde she closed the book, carried it into the sitting room, curled up on the sofa with a plate of biscuits and a glass of cold milk and started again from the beginning. Sam and Quid lay on the floor in front of the fire, their thick tails thumping onto the carpet contentedly, one eye on the plate of biscuits.
The first pages were of David and Ariella at Oxford, a cold picnic on hills somewhere. Ariella was very pretty, Sofia thought grudgingly. Her hair was flowing and almost white, her skin pale pink and her face long and angular. She wore a heavy coat of black mascara that accentuated the feline slant of her green eyes, and there was a sly expression on her surprisingly thin lips. She was beautiful and yet if you took each feature individually there was nothing remarkable, they just all fitted together rather well. It’s only due to her white hair that she seems to stand out in all the photographs, thought Sofia, determined not to grant her charisma as well as beauty.
She turned the pages, smiling at photographs of David as a young man. He was skinny and raffish-looking then, before time and prosperity had rounded him off at the corners. He also had a head of thick sun-bleached hair that flopped over his forehead. David was always surrounded by people, always laughing, playing the fool, whereas Ariella was always demure, watching everyone quietly, and yet she seemed to glow in a strange way; one’s eye was immediately drawn to her in each photograph.
Sofia searched for albums of their wedding and subsequent years together but found none. That one book seemed to be the only one he possessed. She was happy it was covered in dust, stuffed at the bottom of a cupboard he probably never opened.
When David returned a couple of days later, Sofia ran out to meet him with the dogs who jumped up leaving muddy paw-prints on his trousers. She kissed his face all over until he dropped his bag in the hall and carried her upstairs.
Sofia soon forgot about Ariella as she adorned the house with Christmas decorations. David, who usually spent Christmas with his family, decided it wasn’t fair to force so many strangers on Sofia just yet and came up with a compromise. ‘We’ll spend Christmas in Paris,’ he announced over breakfast.
Sofia was astounded.
‘That’s not like you. Paris?’ she gasped. ‘What’s come over you?’
‘I want to be alon
e with you in a beautiful place. I know a small hotel by the Seine,’ he replied nonchalantly.
‘How exciting. I’ve never been to Paris.’
‘Then I’ll show you. I’ll take you shopping in the Champs-Elysees.’
‘Shopping?’
‘Well, you can’t spend your life in jeans and T-shirts, can you?’ he said and drained his cup of coffee.
Paris enthralled Sofia. David travelled in style. They flew first-class and were picked up from the airport by a shiny black car that drove them straight to their discreet hotel on the water’s edge. It was a crisp morning. The sun shimmered in the pale winter sky and a thin layer of snow melted on the pavements and trees. The streets glittered with Christmas decorations and lights and Sofia pressed her nose to the window and looked out in excitement across the stone bridges that straddled the icy water.
As he had promised, David took her shopping. In his old cashmere coat and felt hat Sofia thought he looked both distinguished and handsome. He’d stride
into each shop, take a seat and give his opinions as Sofia tried things on for him. ‘You need a coat.' he’d say, ‘but that one’s too short,’ or, ‘You need an evening dress - that looks stunning on you.' He even went as far as taking her into a lingerie boutique where he insisted she choose lace and silk to replace her cotton underwear. ‘A beautiful woman such as you should be wrapped in beautiful things,’ he said. He didn’t let her carry any of the bags but organized for them to be sent back to the hotel that evening.
‘David, you must have spent a small fortune,’ she said over lunch. ‘I really don’t deserve it.’
‘You deserve every bit of it and more, darling. We’re only just beginning,’ he replied, clearly taking pleasure in spoiling her.
When they arrived back at the hotel Sofia was delighted to find all their purchases neatly piled in their glossy bags in the sitting room adjoining their bedroom. David left her to unpack and wandered downstairs to ‘have a look around’. Sofia pulled each item out of the tissue paper and laid them all across the sofas and chairs until the room itself looked like an expensive boutique. She then turned on the radio and listened to the sensual French music while she lolled in a steaming hot bubble bath. It was blissful. She had been so happy she hadn’t thought about her home or Santiguito for many months, and she wasn’t going to start now. At that moment the past ceased to chase her and allowed her to enjoy the present unharassed.
Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree Page 34